His gaze went back to the blonde. "And here I thought you might need assistance." There was no sign of fear in the amazing green-brown depths of her eyes, though there were hints of amusement and frustration. The woman was definitely odd.
"They haven't been sent here to hurt me." Her voice was a low caress that stirred memories he couldn't quite catch. "Just to harass me. Dunleavy doesn't want me to find those two men I mentioned." He swept his gaze across the nearby buildings. "There's no life in any of these buildings."
"I figured there wouldn't be."
"Then why come here?"
"Because I had to check, regardless. Dunleavy might have hidden the prisoners here for the very reason that it was an obvious hiding spot."
Only a woman would think like that. "Do you want assistance?" She gave him a deadpan look. "Hell, no. I'm enjoying myself standing here." He held back his smile. "Two of these wolves are shifters, and as they'll understand every word we're saying, it might be best—"
"They won't understand," she countered. "Because they're under Dunleavy's spell and following his orders."
"And you know this because...?"
She hesitated. "I'm a witch."
She was a witch as much as he could fly. He frowned, wondering why she was lying. And if she wasn't a witch, how did she know the shifters were spelled?
"Then why don't you magic your way out?"
She sniffed, her look so haughty he couldn't help smiling. God, she looked so damn cute he could kiss her. He quickly quelled the thought. Damn, where was his mind? He was here to avenge Christine, not dally with another woman.
"Magic cannot be raised willy-nilly," she said, her voice bordering on disdain. "And it should always be used with care."
"That didn't really answer my question."
She hesitated again, then said, in a more normal tone, "I can't raise the magic here. The conditions aren't right for me."